_CHAPTER TWENTY_
The revolution was over. Interplanetary officials and army heads hadfled to the sanctuary of Earth. Interplanetary was ended ... endedforever, for on every world, including Earth, material energy engineswere humming. The people had power to burn, to throw away, power socheap that it was practically worthless as a commodity, but invaluableas a way to a new life, a greater life, a fuller life ... a broaderdestiny for the human race.
Interplanetary stocks were worthless. The mighty power plants on Venusand Mercury were idle. The only remaining tangible asset were the fleetsof spaceships used less than a month before to ship the accumulators tothe outer worlds, to bring them Sunward for recharging.
Patents protecting the rights to the material energy engines had beenobtained from every government throughout the Solar System. Newgovernments were being formed on the wreckage of the old. John MooreMallory already had been inaugurated as president of the Jovianconfederacy. The elections on Mars and Venus would be held within aweek.
Mercury, its usefulness gone with the smashing of the accumulator trade,had been abandoned. No human foot now trod its surface. Its mighty domeswere empty. It went its way, as it had gone for billions of years, alittle burned out, worthless planet, ignored and shunned. For a briefmoment it had known the conquering tread of mankind, had played its partin the commerce of the worlds, but now it had reverted to its formerstate ... a lonely wanderer of the regions near the Sun, a pariah amongthe other planets.
* * * * *
Russell Page looked across the desk at Gregory Manning. He heaved a sighand dug the pipe out of his jacket pocket.
"It's finished, Greg," he said.
Greg nodded solemnly, watching Russ fill the bowl and apply the match.
Except for the small crew, they were alone in the _Invincible_. JohnMoore Mallory and the others were on their own worlds, forming their owngovernments, carrying out the dictates of the people, men who would godown in solar history.
The _Invincible_ hung just off Callisto. Russ looked out at the mightymoon, saw the lonely stretches of its ice-bound surface, saw the silveryspot that was the dome of Ranthoor.
"All done," said Greg, "except for one thing."
"Go out and get Chambers and the others," said Russ, puffing at thepipe.
Greg nodded. "We may as well get started."
Russ rose slowly, went to the wall cabinet and lifted out a box, themechanical shadow with its tiny space field surrounding the fleck ofsteel that would lead them to the _Interplanetarian_. Carefully helifted the machine from its resting place and set it on the desk.Bending over it, he watched the dials.
Suddenly he whistled. "Greg, they've moved! They aren't where we leftthem!"
Greg sprang to his side and stared at the readings. "They're movingfarther away from us ... out into space. Where can they be going?"
Russ straightened, scowling, pulling at the pipe. "They probably foundanother G-type star, and are heading for that. They must think it is oldSol."
"That sounds like it," said Greg. "We spun all over the map to throwCraven off and looped several times so he'd lose all sense of direction.Naturally he would be lost."
"But he's evidently got something," Russ pointed out. "We left himmarooned ... dead center, out where he didn't have too much radiationand couldn't get leverage on any single body. Yet he's moving--andgetting farther away all the time."
"He solved our gravitation concentration screen," said Greg. "He trickedus into giving him power to build it."
The two men looked at one another for a long minute.
"Well," said Russ, "that's that. Craven and Chambers and Stutsman. Thethree villains. All lost in space. Heading for the wrong star.Hopelessly lost. Maybe they'll never find their way back."
He stopped and relit his pipe. An aching silence fell in the room.
"Poetic justice," said Russ. "Hail and farewell."
Greg rubbed his fist indecisively along the desk. "I can't do it, Russ.We took them out there. We marooned them. We have to get them back or Icouldn't sleep nights."
Russ laughed quietly, watching the bleak face that stared at him. "Iknew that's what you'd say."
He knocked out the pipe, crushed a fleck of burning tobacco with hisboot. Pocketing the pipe, he walked to the control panel, sat down andreached for the lever. The engines hummed louder and louder. The_Invincible_ darted spaceward.
* * * * *
"It's too late now," said Chambers. "By the time we reach that planetarysystem and charge our accumulators, Manning and Page will haveeverything under control back in the Solar System. Even if we couldlocate the star that was our Sun, we wouldn't have a chance to get therein time."
"Too bad," Craven said, and wagged his head, looking like a solemn owl."Too bad. Dictator Stutsman won't have a chance to strut his stuff."
Stutsman started to say something and thought better of it. He leanedback in his chair. From his belt hung a heat pistol.
Chambers eyed the pistol with ill-concealed disgust. "There's no pointin playing soldier. We aren't going to try to upset your mutiny. So faryour taking over the ship hasn't made any difference to us ... so whyshould we fight you?"
"It isn't going to make any difference either," said Craven. "Becausethere are just two things that will happen to us. We're either lostforever, will never find our way back, will spend the rest of our dayswandering from star to star, or Manning will come out and take us by theear and lead us home again."
Chambers started, leaned forward and fastened his steely eyes on Craven."Do you really think he could find us?"
"I have no doubt of it," Craven replied. "I don't know how he does it,but I'm convinced he can. Probably, however, he'll find that we are lostand get rid of us that way."
"No," said Chambers, "you're wrong there. Manning wouldn't do that.He'll come to get us."
"I don't know why he should," snapped Craven.
"Because he's that sort of man," declared Chambers.
"What you going to do when he does get out here?" demanded Stutsman."Fall on his neck and kiss him?"
Chambers smiled, stroked his mustache. "Why, no," he said. "I imaginewe'll fight. We'll give him everything we've got and he'll do the same.It wouldn't seem natural if we didn't."
"You're damned right we will," growled Stutsman. "Because I'm runningthis show. You seem to keep forgetting that. We have power enough, whenwe get those accumulators filled, to wipe him out. And that is exactlywhat I'm going to do."
"Fine," said Craven, mockingly, "just fine. There's just one thing youforget. Manning is the only man who can lead us back to the SolarSystem."
"Hell," stormed Stutsman, "that doesn't make any difference. I'll findmy way back there some way."
"You're afraid of Manning," Chambers challenged.
Stutsman's hand went down to the heat pistol's grip. His eyes glazed andhis face twisted itself into utter hatred. "I don't know why I keep onletting you live. Craven is valuable to me. I can't kill him. But youaren't. You aren't worth a damn to anyone."
* * * * *
Chambers matched his stare. Stutsman's hand dropped from the pistol andhe slouched to his feet, walked from the room.
Afraid of Manning! He laughed, a hollow, gurgling laugh. Afraid ofManning!
But he was.
Within his brain hammered a single sentence. Words he had heard Manningspeak as he watched over the television set at Manning's mockinginvitation. Words that beat into his brain and seared his reason andmade his soul shrivel and grow small.
Manning talking to Scorio. Talking to him matter-of-factly, but grimly:"_I promise you that we'll take care of Stutsman!_"
Manning had taken Scorio and his gangsters one by one and sent them tofar corners of the Solar System. One out to the dreaded Vulcan Fleet,one to the Outpost, one to the Titan prison, and one to the hell-holeon Vesta, while Scorio had gone to a little mountain set in a Venusswamp. They
hadn't a chance. They had been locked within a force shelland shunted through millions of miles of space. No trial, no hearing ...nothing. Just terrible, unrelenting judgment.
"_I promise you that we'll take care of Stutsman!_"
* * * * *
"Craven's only a few billion miles ahead now," said Gregory Manning."With our margin of speed, we should overhaul him in a few more hours.He is still short on power, but he's remedying that rapidly. He'sgetting nearer to that sun every minute. Running in toward it as he is,he tends to sweep up outpouring radiations. That helps him collect awhole lot more than he would under ordinary circumstances."
Russ, sitting before the controls, pipe clenched in his teeth, watchingthe dials, nodded soberly.
"All I'm afraid of," he said, "is that he'll get too close to that sunbefore we catch up with him. If he gets close enough so he can fillthose accumulators, he'll pack a bigger wallop than we do. It'll all bein one bolt, of course, for his power isn't continuous like ours. He hasto collect it slowly. But when he's really loaded, he can give us acesand still win. I'd hate to take everything he could pack into thoseaccumulators."
Greg shuddered. "So would I."
The _Invincible_ was exceeding the speed of light, was enveloped in themysterious darkness that characterized the speed. They could see nothingoutside the ship, for there was nothing to see. But the tiny mechanicalshadow, occupying a place of honor on the navigation board, kept theminformed of the position and the distance of the _Interplanetarian_.
Greg lolled in his chair, watching Russ.
"I don't think we need to worry about him throwing the entire load ofthe accumulators at us," he said. "He wouldn't dare load thoseaccumulators to peak capacity. He's got to leave enough carryingcapacity in the cells to handle any jolts we send him and he knows wecan send him plenty. He has to keep that handling margin at all times,over and above what he takes in for power, because his absorption screenis also a defensive screen. And he has to use some power to keep ourtelevision apparatus out."
Russ chuckled. "I suppose, at that, we have him plenty worried."
The thunder of the engines filled the control room. For days now thatthunder had been in their ears. They had grown accustomed to it, nowhardly noticed it. Ten mighty engines, driving the _Invincible_ at apace no other ship had ever obtained, except, possibly, the_Interplanetarian_, although lack of power should have held Craven'sship down to a lower speed. Craven wouldn't have dared to build up theacceleration they had now attained, for he would have drained his banksand been unable to charge them again.
"Maybe he won't fight," said Russ. "Maybe he's figured out by this timethat he's heading for the wrong star. He may be glad to see us andfollow us back to the Solar System."
"No chance of that. Craven and Chambers won't pass up a chance for afight. They'll give us a few wallops if only for the appearance ofthings."
"We're crawling up all the time," said Russ. "If we can catch him withinfour or five billion miles of the star, he won't be too tough to handle.Be getting plenty of radiations even then, but not quite as much as hewould like to have."
"He'll have to start decelerating pretty soon," Greg declared. "He can'trun the chance of smashing into the planetary system at the speed he'sgoing. He won't want to waste too much power using his field as a brake,because he must know by this time that we're after him and he'll wantwhat power he has to throw at us."
Hours passed. The _Invincible_ crept nearer and nearer, suddenly seemedto leap ahead as the _Interplanetarian_ began deceleration.
"Keep giving her all you got," Greg urged Russ. "We've got plenty ofpower for braking. We can overhaul him and stop in a fraction of thetime he does."
Russ nodded grimly. The distance indicator needle on the mechanicalshadow slipped off rapidly. Greg, leaping from his chair, hung over it,breathlessly.
"I think," he said, "we better slow down now. If we don't, we'll beinside the planetary system."
"How far out is Craven?" asked Russ.
"Not far enough," Greg replied unhappily. "He can't be more than threebillion miles from the star and that star's hot. A class G, all right,but a good deal younger than old Sol."
* * * * *
"We'll let them know we've arrived," grinned Greg. He sent a stabbingbeam of half a billion horsepower slashing at the _Interplanetarian_.
The other ship staggered but steadied itself.
"They know," said Russ cryptically from his position in front of thevision plate. "We shook them up a bit."
They waited. Nothing happened.
Greg scratched his head. "Maybe you were right. Maybe they don't want tofight."
Together they watched the _Interplanetarian_. It was still moving intoward the distant sun, as if nothing had happened.
"We'll see," said Greg.
Back at the controls he threw out a gigantic tractor beam, catching theother ship in a net of forces that visibly cut its speed.
Space suddenly vomited lashing flame that slapped back and licked andcrawled in living streamers over the surface of the _Invincible_. Theengines moaned in their valiant battle to keep up the outer screen. Thepungent odor of ozone filtered into the control room. The whole ship wasbucking and vibrating, creaking, as if it were being pulled apart.
"So they don't want to fight, eh?" hooted Russ.
Greg gritted his teeth. "They snapped the tractor beam."
"They have power there," Russ declared.
"Too much," said Greg. "More power than they have any right to have."
His hand went out to the lever on the board and pulled it back. A beamsmashed out, with the engines' screaming drive behind it, billions ofhorsepower driving with unleashed ferocity at the other ship.
Greg's hand spun a dial, while the generators roared thunderousdefiance.
"I'm giving them the radiation scale," said Greg.
The _Interplanetarian_ was staggering under the terrific bombardment,but its screen was handling every ounce of the power that Greg waspouring into it.
"Their photo-cells can't handle that," cried Russ. "No photo-cell wouldhandle all that stuff you're shooting at them. Unless ..."
"Unless what?"
"Unless Craven has improved on them."
"We'll have to find out. Get the televisor."
* * * * *
Russ leaped for the television machine.
A moment later he lifted a haggard face.
"I can't get through," he said. "Craven's got our beams stopped and nowhe has our television blocked out."
Greg nodded. "We might have expected that. When he could scramble ourtelevisors back in the Jovian worlds, he certainly ought to be able toscreen his ship against them."
He shoved the lever clear over, slamming the extreme limit of powerinto the beam. The engines screamed like demented things, howling andshrieking. Instantly a tremendous sheet of solid flame spun a fiery webaround the _Interplanetarian_, turning it into a blazing inferno oflapping, leaping fire.
A dozen terrific beams, billions of horsepower in each, stabbed back atthe _Invincible_ as the _Interplanetarian_ shunted the terrific energyinflux from the overcharged accumulators to the various automatic energydischarges.
The _Invincible's_ screen flared in defense and the ten great engineswailed in utter agony. More stabbing flame shot from the_Interplanetarian_ in slow explosions.
The temperature in the _Invincible's_ control room was rising. The ozonewas sharp enough to make their eyes water and nostrils burn. The visionglass was blanked out by the lapping flames that crawled and writhedover the screen outside the glass.
Russ tore his collar open, wiped his face with his shirt sleeve. "Try apure magnetic!"
Greg, his face set and bleak as a wall of stone, grunted agreement. Hisfingers danced over the control manual.
Suddenly the stars outside twisted and danced, like stars gone mad, asif they were dancing a riotous jig in space, some up
roariously hoppingup and down while others were applauding the show that was beingprovided for their unblinking eyes.
The magnetic field was tightening now, twisting the light from thosedistant stars and bending it straight again. The _Interplanetarian_reeled like a drunken thing and the great arcs of electric flame loopedmadly and plunged straight for the field's very heart.
* * * * *
The stars danced weirdly in far-off space again as the_Interplanetarian's_ accumulators lashed out with tremendous force tooppose the energy of the field.
The field glowed softly and disappeared.
"They have us stopped at every turn," groaned Russ. "There must be someway, something we can do." He looked at Greg. Greg grinned withouthumor, wiping his face. "There is something we can do," said Russgrimly. "We should have thought of it long ago."
He strode to the desk, reached out one hand and drew a calculator near.
"You keep them busy," he snapped. "I'll have this thing figured out injust a while."
From the engine rooms came the roar and hum of the laboring units andthe _Invincible_ shuddered once again as Greg grimly hurled one beamafter another, at the _Interplanetarian_.
The _Interplanetarian_ struck back, using radio frequency that flamedfiercely against the _Invincible's_ outer screen. Simultaneously the_Interplanetarian_ leaped forward with a sudden surge of accumulatedenergy, driving at the star that lay not more than three billion milesaway.
Greg worked desperately, cursing under his breath. He pulled down theouter screen that was fighting directly against the radio frequency,energy for energy, and allowed the beam to strike squarely on the secondscreen, the inversion field that shunted the major portion of the energyimpacting against it through 90 degrees into another space.
The engines moaned softly and settled into a quieter rumble as thenecessity of supplying the first screen was eliminated. But theyscreamed once again as Greg sent out a tractor beam that seized andheld, dragged the _Interplanetarian_ to a standstill. Craven's ship hadgained millions of miles, though, and established a tremendous advantageby fighting nearer to its source of energy.
"Russ," gasped Greg, "if you don't get that scheme of yours figured outpretty soon, we're done for. They've stopped everything we've got.They're nearer the sun. We won't stand a chance if they make anotherbreak like that."
Russ glanced up to answer, but his mouth fell open in amazement and hedid not speak. A streak of terrible light was striking at them from the_Interplanetarian_, blinding white light, and along that highway oflight swarmed a horde of little green figures, like squirming greenamebas. Swarming toward the _Invincible_, stretching out hungry,pale-green pseudopods toward the inversion barrier ... _and eatingthrough it_!
Wherever they touched, holes appeared. They drifted through theinversion screen easily and began drilling into the inner screen ofanti-entropy. Eating their way into the anti-entropy ... _into a stateof matter which Russ and Greg had thought would resist all change_!
* * * * *
For seconds both men stood transfixed, unable to believe the evidence oftheir eyes. But the ameba things came on in ever-increasing throngs,creatures that gnawed and slobbered at the anti-entropy, eating into it,flaking it away, drilling their way through it.
When they pierced the anti-entropy, they would cut through the steelplates of the _Invincible_ like so much paper!
And more were coming. More and more!
With a grunt of amazement, Greg slammed a beam straight into the heartof the amebas. They ate the beam and vanished as mistily as before,little glowing things that ate and died. But there were always more totake their place. They overwhelmed the beam and ate back along itslength, attacked the screen again.
They ate through walls of force and walls of metal, and a rush ofhissing air began to flame into ions in the terrific battle of energiesoutside the _Invincible_.
Russ was crouching over the manual of the televisor board. His breathmoaned in his throat as his fingers flew.
"I have to have power, Greg," he said. "Lots of power."
"Take it." Greg replied. "I haven't been able to do anything with it. Itisn't any use to me."
Russ's thumb reached out and tripped the activating lever. The giantengines shrieked and yowled.
Something was happening on the television screen ... somethingterrifying. Craven's ship seemed to retreat suddenly for millions ofmiles ... and as suddenly the _Invincible_ appeared on the screen. For asingle flashing instant, the view held; then it was gone in blankgrayness. For seconds nothing happened on the screen, unnerving secondswhile the two men held their breath.
The screen's grayness fled and they looked into the control room of the_Interplanetarian_. Craven was hunched in a chair, intent upon a seriesof controls. Behind him and to one side stood Stutsman, a heat pistoldangled from his hand, his face twisted into a sneer of triumph. Therewas no sign of Chambers.
"You damn fool," Craven was snapping at Stutsman. "You're cheating usout of the only chance we ever had of getting home."
* * * * *
"Shut up," snarled Stutsman, the pistol jerking in his hand. "Have yougot that apparatus on full power?"
"It's been on full power for minutes now," said Craven. "It must beeating holes straight through Manning's ship."
"See you keep it that way. I really don't need you any more, anyhow.I've watched and I know all the tricks. I could carry on this battlesingle-handed."
Craven did not reply, merely hunched closer over the controls, eyeswatching flickering dials.
Greg jogged Russ's elbow. "That must be the apparatus over there, in thecorner of the room. That triangular affair. A condenser of some sort.That stuff they're throwing at us must be super-saturated force fieldsand they'd need a space-field condenser for that."
Russ nodded. "We'll take care of that."
His fingers moved swiftly and a transport beam whipped out, riding thetelevision beam. Bands of force wrapped around the triangular machineand wrenched viciously. In the screen the apparatus disappeared ...simply was gone. It now lay within the _Invincible's_ control room,jerked there by the tele-transport.
The flood of dazzling light reaching out from the _Interplanetarian_snapped off and the little green ameba things were gone. The shrillwhistle of escaping air stopped as the eaten screens clamped down again,sealing in the atmosphere despite the holes bored through the metalplates.
In the television screen, Craven leaped from his chair, was staring withStutsman at the place where the concentrator had stood. The machine hadbeen ripped from a welded base and jagged, bright, torn metal gleamed inthe control room lights. Snapped cables and broken busbars lay piledabout the room.
"What happened?" Stutsman was screaming. They heard Craven laugh at theterror in the other's voice. "Manning just walked in and grabbed it awayfrom us."
"But he couldn't! We had the screen up! He couldn't get through!"
Craven shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know how he did it, but he did.Probably he could clean out the whole place if he wanted to."
"That's a good idea," said Russ, judiciously.
He stripped bank after bank of the other ship's photo-cells from theirmoorings, wrecked the force field controls, ripped cables from theengines and left the ship without means of collecting power, withoutmeans of using power, without means of movement, of offense or defense.
* * * * *
He leaned back in his chair and regarded the screen with deepsatisfaction.
"That," he decided, "should hold them for a while."
He hauled the pipe out of his pocket and filled it from the batteredleather pouch.
Greg regarded him with a quizzical stare. "You sent the televisor backin time. You got it inside the _Interplanetarian_ before Craven had runup his screen and then you brought it forward."
"You guessed it," said Russ, tamping the tobacco into the bowl. "Weshould
have thought of that long ago. We have a time factor there. Infact, the whole thing revolves around time. We move the televisor, weuse the tele-transport, by giving the objects we wish to move anacceleration in time."
Greg wrinkled his brow. "Maybe that means we can really investigate thepast, or even the future. Can sit here before our screen and seeeverything that has happened, everything that is going to happen."
Russ shook his head. "I don't know, Greg. Notice, though, that we got noscreen response until the televisor came up out of the past and actuallyreached the point which coincided with the present. That is, the screenand the televisor itself have to be on the same time level for them tooperate. We might modify the screen, even modify the televisor so thatwe could travel in time, but it will take a lot of research, a lot ofwork. And especially it will take a whale of a lot of power."
"We have the power," said Greg.
Russ moved the lighter back and forth over the tobacco, igniting itcarefully. Clouds of blue smoke swirled around his head. He spoke out ofthe smoke.
"Right now," he said, "we better see how Craven and our other friendsare getting along. I didn't like the way Stutsman was talking or the wayhe was swinging that gun around. And Chambers wasn't anywhere in sight.There's something screwy about the entire thing."
* * * * *
"What are we going to do now?" demanded Stutsman.
Craven grinned at him. "That's up to you. Remember, you're the mastermind around here. You took over and said you were going to run things."He waved a casual hand at the shattered machines, the ripped-outapparatus. "Well, there you are. Go ahead and run the joint."
"But you will have to help," pleaded Stutsman, his face twisted until itseemed that he was suffering intense physical agony. "You know what todo. I don't."
Craven shook his head. "There isn't any use starting. Manning will bealong almost anytime now. We'll wait and see what he has in mind."
"Manning!" shrieked Stutsman, waving the pistol wildly. "Always Manning.One would think you were working for Manning."
"He's the big shot out in this little corner of space right now," Cravenpointed out. "There isn't any way you can get around that."
Stutsman backed carefully away. His gun came up and he looked at Cravenappraisingly, as if selecting his targets.
"Put down that gun," said a voice.
Gregory Manning stood between Stutsman and Craven. There had been nofoggy forerunner of his appearance. He had just snapped out of emptyair.
Stutsman stared at him, his eyes widening, but the gun remained steadyin his hand.
"Look out, Craven," warned Greg. "He's going to fire and it will goright through me and hit you."
* * * * *
There was the thump of a falling body as Craven hurled himself out ofhis chair, hit the floor and rolled. Stutsman's gun vomited flame. Thespouting flame passed through Greg's image, blasted against the chair inwhich Craven had sat, fused it until it fell in on itself.
"Russ," said Greg quietly, "disarm this fellow before he hurtssomebody."
An unseen force reached out and twisted the gun from Stutsman's hand,flung it to one side. Swiftly Stutsman's hands were forced behind hisback and held there by invisible bonds.
Stutsman cried out, tried to struggle, but he was unable to move. It wasas if giant hands had gripped him, were holding him in a viselikeclutch.
"Thanks, Manning," said Craven, getting up off the floor. "The foolwould have shot this time. He's threatened it for days. He has beendeveloping a homicidal mania."
"We don't need to worry about him now," declared Greg. He turned aroundto face Craven. "Where's Chambers?"
"Stutsman locked him up," said Craven. "I imagine he has the key in hispocket. Locked him up in the stateroom. Chambers jumped him and tried totake the gun away from him and Stutsman laid him out, hit him over thehead. He kept Chambers locked up after that. Hasn't allowed anyone to gonear the room. Hasn't even given him food and water. That was three daysago."
"Get the key out of his pocket," directed Greg. "Go and see how Chambersis."
Alone in the control room with Stutsman, Greg looked at him.
"I have a score to settle with you, Stutsman," he said. "I had intendedto let it ride, but not now."
"You can't touch me," blustered Stutsman. "You wouldn't dare."
"What makes you think I wouldn't?"
"You're bluffing. You've got a lot of tricks, but you can't do thethings you would like me to think you can. You've got Chambers andCraven fooled, but not me."
"It may be that I can offer you definite proof."
Chambers staggered over the threshold. His clothing was rumpled. A rudebandage was wound around his head. His face was haggard and his eyesred.
"Hello, Manning," he said. "I suppose you've won. The Solar System mustbe in your control by now."
He lifted his hand to his mustache, brushed it, a feeble attempt atplaying the old role he'd acted so long.
"We've won," said Greg quietly, "but you're wrong about our being incontrol. The governments are in the hands of the people, where theyshould be."
Chambers nodded. "I see," he mumbled. "Different people, differentideas." His eyes rested on Stutsman and Greg saw sudden rage sweepacross the gray, haggard face. "So you've got him, have you? What areyou going to do with him? What are you going to do with all of us?"
"I haven't had time to think about it," said Greg. "I've principallybeen thinking about Stutsman here."
"He mutinied," rasped Chambers. "He seized the ship, turned the crewagainst me."
"And the penalty for that," said Greg, quietly, "is death. Death bywalking in space."
Stutsman writhed within the bands of force that held him tight. His facecontorted. "No, damn you! You can't do that! Not to me, you can't!"
"Shut up," roared Chambers and Stutsman quieted.
"I was thinking, too," said Greg, "that at his order thousands of peoplewere mercilessly shot down back in the Solar System. Stood against awall and mowed down. Others were killed like wild animals in the street.Thousands of them."
* * * * *
He moved slowly toward Stutsman and the man cringed.
"Stutsman," he said, "you're a butcher. You're a stench in the nostrilsof humanity. You aren't fit to live."
"Those," said Craven, "are my sentiments exactly."
"You hate me," screamed Stutsman. "All of you hate me. You are doingthis because you hate me."
"Everyone hates you, Stutsman," said Greg. "Every living person hatesyou. You have a cloud of hate hanging over you as black and wide asspace."
The man closed his eyes, trying to break free of the bonds.
"Bring me a spacesuit," snapped Greg, watching Stutsman's face.
Craven brought it and dropped it at Stutsman's feet.
"All right, Russ," said Greg. "Turn him loose."
Stutsman swayed and almost fell as the bands of force released him.
"Get into that suit," ordered Greg.
Stutsman hesitated, but something he saw in Greg's face made him liftthe suit, step into it, fasten it about his body.
"What are you going to do with me?" he whimpered. "You aren't going totake me back to Earth again, are you? You aren't going to make me standtrial?"
"No," said Greg, gravely, "we aren't taking you back to Earth. Andyou're standing trial right now."
Stutsman read his fate in the cold eyes that stared into his. Chatteringfrightenedly, he rushed at Greg, plunged through him, collided with thewall of the ship and toppled over, feebly attempting to rise.
Invisible hands hoisted him to his feet, gripped him, held him upright.Greg walked toward him, stood facing him.
"Stutsman," he said, "you have four hours of air. That will give youfour hours to think, to make your peace with death." He turned towardthe other two. Chambers nodded grimly. Craven said nothing.
"And now," said Greg to Craven, "if you will fast
en down his helmet."
The helmet clanged shut, shutting out the pleas and threats that camefrom Stutsman's throat.
* * * * *
Stutsman saw distant stars, cruel, gleaming eyes that glared at him.Empty space fell away on all sides.
Numbed by fear, he realized where he was. Manning had picked him up andthrown him far into space ... out into that waste where for hundreds oflight years there was only the awful nothingness of space.
He was less than a speck of dust, in this great immensity of emptiness.There was no up or down, no means of orientation.
Loneliness and terror closed in on him, a terrible agony of fear. Infour hours his air would be gone and then he would die! His body wouldswirl and eddy through this great cosmic ocean. It would never be found.It would remain here, embalmed by the cold of space, until the last clapof eternity.
There was one way, the easy way. His hand reached up and grasped theconnection between his helmet and the air tank. One wrench and he woulddie swiftly, quickly ... instead of letting death stalk him through thedarkness for the next four hours.
He shivered and his hand loosened its hold, dropped away. He was afraidto hasten death. He wanted to put it off. He was afraid of death ...horribly afraid.
The stars mocked him and he seemed to hear hooting laughter fromsomewhere far away. Curiously, it sounded like his own laughter....
* * * * *
"I'll make it easy for you, Manning," Chambers said. "I know that all ofus are guilty. Guilty in the eyes of the people and the law. Guilty inyour eyes. If we had won, there would have been no penalty. There'snever a penalty for the one who wins."
"Penalty," said Greg, his eyes half smiling. "Why, yes, I think thereis. I'm going to order you aboard the _Invincible_ for something to eatand to get some rest."
"You mean to say that we aren't prisoners?"
Greg shook his head. "Not prisoners," he said. "Why, I came out here toguide you back to Earth. I hauled you out here and got you into thisjam. It was up to me to get you out of it. I would have done the samefor Stutsman, too, but ..."
He hesitated and looked at Chambers.
Chambers stared back and slowly nodded.
"Yes, Manning," he said. "I think I understand."
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